


Wake

by m0usielous1e



Category: The Walking Dead
Genre: Gen, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-10-05 21:22:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10317227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m0usielous1e/pseuds/m0usielous1e
Summary: Richard's death is a tragedy...for some more than others.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote most of it before 7x13 aired and well, didn't want to change it. Alas, this makes some of it AU but you know what, I like the part that is. Also, yeah, this is more of a drabble than anything else but writing for me has been a struggle these past few weeks.

Richard was not a hothead, not exactly, but maybe too eager and that was dangerous in this world. Daryl wasn’t there when King Ezekiel’s Lancelot died, but he saw the aftermath. The king and his immediate circle of “knights” were devastated, and much noise was made about the funeral. The kid went into shock, then got mad and stalked around in anger much like Carl used to do. It was a bit jarring really, to once again see a community not used to the horror the outside world had become. Daryl tried to keep out of their way, sneaking visits to Carol’s house when he could, helping around the community when he couldn’t, but really, this did not have anything to do with him. At least, it didn’t, until people kept repeating how difficult it was going to be to tell Jesus the news.

Daryl did not know much about the wily bastard that had gotten them into this mess. Okay, well, no, that was unfair. Daryl had met the Saviours first but it was just easier to blame Jesus when there was no one around and the guilt was getting to him. When he was alone and it was quiet and he had time to think, Daryl often found his thoughts wandering back to the beginning and then somehow, he would be trying to figure out Paul Rovia.

It was weird. Like, Daryl knew how Jesus got his nickname, and that he had martial arts training and that he was community liaison. But where was Jesus from before this all started? Did he have any family? No one liked to ask about that stuff anymore, everyone had to have lost someone, well, maybe it was the Kingdom. The people here were so happy and comfortable that they thought nothing of sharing their pasts and asking others about theirs and so Daryl had spent a lot of his time as far away from them as possible. Still, they were beginning to get to him, and with Ezekiel still refusing to go to war, and that damn tiger eyeing Daryl like she was in the mood for redneck whenever he walked in the room, what else could he do but think?

So, Jesus was gay. Daryl had not asked for that piece of information, but it had been provided nevertheless. By the same person who shared that Richard and Jesus had been close and how heart-breaking it was to see couples broken up in this world. Daryl had tolerated this for as long as he could, which was until he realised that the person had run out of gossip and was repeating old things, and then he walked away to find something else to do. This was frankly none of his business.

Jesus arrived at the Kingdom two days later. Daryl, who coincidentally, had nothing to do at the time, made his way to the gate to find out if it was okay for him to leave yet. No dice. Jesus was alone and being informed about Richard’s untimely, if predictable demise by one of the Kingdom’s…subjects. His reaction gave Daryl an uncanny bit of déjà vu.

Jesus had been visibly upset by the news. It was clear all over his too pretty face—seriously, how had this guy given him and Rick so much trouble?—as he stood, arms folded, head down, nodding silently every now and then. He even accepted a reassuring pat on the shoulder and did not look up again until the other man had left. And when he looked up and met Daryl’s gaze, the sadness was swiftly replaced by concern. Brow furrowed, frown forming, he stepped towards Daryl and Daryl turned and went the other way. Maybe they needed help with the horses or whatever.

That reaction looked a hell of a lot like Beth’s to learning that Zach kid had been killed back in the prison. Sure, he looked sad but if he was really feeling it, Daryl was King Ezekiel’s long-lost son. Jesus was nothing like Beth, except that they were both blond and small. And yet…who was this guy?

No one had needed any help with the horses, but Daryl had been enlisted in the archery training. Different type of bow, so he learned as much as he taught, and it was something to do until chow time. Daryl saw no sign of Jesus, thank goodness, but it would have been nice to hear something about whatever was going on out there. Surely, Rick needed him for something by now.

Jesus and the king showed up halfway through dinner, but the scout ducked out shortly after with a bottle of something under his arm. Daryl thought about it for two minutes, scoffed at himself, stood up and went out in search of him. As it turned out, Jesus had not gone far. Daryl had not really known where to begin to look for him, but Jesus had made things considerably easier by heading to the room closest the cafeteria, a library, and taking a seat near a well-lit window.

Daryl made it as far as the doorway before common sense kicked in and he realised that he had no idea what he was going to say. This was awkward when it had no reason to be. And then Jesus said, “Hi.”

Daryl met his gaze across the room. Jesus lifted the bottle and said, “I just remembered that you’re not allowed to bring drinks in here.”

Daryl scoffed, said, “Don’t matter no more.”

Jesus gave a small smile that did not reach his eyes and said, “Ah, but it does. If we don’t obey the rules, what are we left with?”

That sounded too much like something Negan would say so they both winced. Jesus cracked the seal on the bottle and said, “On second thought.”

Daryl walked in and propped himself against a bookshelf near where Jesus sat. Jesus took a swig and said, “Well, what do you think of the Kingdom?”

“It’s fine. How are you guys doing out there?”

“Fine. They miss you but they’re doing well,” said Jesus. He held the bottle out to Daryl, who took it, swallowed a large gulp, scoffed through the burn and passed it back. Jesus was staring at him.

“What?” he asked, ducking his eyes away from that gaze.

Jesus leaned back in his seat, gaze unflinching and asked, “What is it?”

Daryl folded his arms, stared at Jesus for a bit and replied, “Sorry about your friend.”

Jesus’ brow furrowed for a fraction of a second, before realisation dawned, he took another swig and said, “Was bound to happen sooner or later. Richard was…determined, but also damaged. I tried to counsel him when he first approached me with his plan to fight back. I see that my advice did not take. This is a war that requires a level head. It is just fortunate that he did not get anyone else killed as well.”

Daryl unfolded his arms, stunned. Then, because his mouth took off running before his brain could rein it in, he said, “Hey, wasn’t you two in something? You don’t look all that broken up.”

Jesus’ brow furrowed again. Daryl’s face grew hot and he was sure he was red to the tips of his ears. He dropped his gaze from Jesus’ and said, “It ain’t none of my business, sorry.”

Jesus barked out a laugh and said, “Oh, I see you heard that rumour. Well look at that. Daryl Dixon is not above listening to gossip.”

“Man, screw you!” snapped Daryl without any real heat, stepping away from the bookshelf and turning to the door.

“Hey, don’t go,” said Jesus, rising from his seat, fighting a laugh. “It’s just…it’s not like that. We weren’t like that. Everyone just thought we were because Richard stuck close to me. I never told them what he was planning and I’m guessing…you didn’t either?”

Daryl stopped walking. Jesus came around the table to stand beside him, leaning against the opposite bookshelf, with one foot propped up behind him. Jesus smiled, Daryl could almost hear it, and said, “Did you come to keep me company? See how I was doing?”

This time Daryl met Jesus’ gaze with a glare, but there was no smile on the other’s man face. Instead he wore an expression so intense, so focused on Daryl that it made his heart seize. Jesus had leant his head back against the shelf, so that he was almost looking down at Daryl but there was nothing condescending in it. Suddenly the air felt heavy and that made Daryl uncomfortable. He did not like being uncomfortable. He shifted away from Jesus, took a step towards the door. The other man did not move but said, “Thank you for your concern. We were friends…allies, just not in the way other people think. Just because I’m gay doesn’t mean I want every man I see.”

“Didn’t think you did,” said Daryl. He folded his arms again. He wanted to leave but he couldn’t.

Jesus did not smile but Daryl thought he could see it in his eyes anyway. There was something funny in what Daryl had said and he was not sure he wanted to figure it out. Jesus extended the bottle towards him and said, “Thank you for your concern.”

Daryl eyed him and the bottle, then took the bottle. Jesus waited until Daryl had taken a good swig and said, “Besides, I have my eye on someone else.”

Daryl did not do a spit-take. He was not going to waste good liquor like that at the end of the world. When he swallowed, and had wiped away the trickle from his chin, he turned to glare at Jesus properly. The other man met his gaze levelly and said nothing.

“Man, I’m not playing that game with you,” said Daryl.

“What game?” asked Jesus, eyes widened slightly. “I was merely stating a fact. Just a juicy bit of gossip you can share while you can. There is nothing else to do nowadays but fight for your life, feed the Saviours, prepare for war and gossip. Well, there is sex but that’s not an option for everyone.”

Daryl started shaking his head. He took another swig from the bottle, passed it back to Jesus and folded his arms again. He was still uncomfortable but he could not bring himself to walk away. He had spent more than enough time in the Kingdom to know that he did not care to talk to any of them at the moment and with Richard martyred and the king quietly preparing for war, there was no need for him to. Jesus smirked, as if he knew this, and said, “It’s better than what Richard was planning, even if it did work out for him in the end…I guess.” He looked away, considering, and continued, “Hey, you may be able to leave here soon, once everything comes out in the open.”

That was hardly a revelation. Daryl had been thinking as much since he was exiled—well, granted asylum. Jesus’ smile fell away as he said, “Maggie would be very glad to see you.”

Daryl turned his head away. He did not want to hear that. “She should not be worrying about me."

Jesus offered a brief, small smile as he replied, “Well she does anyway. Actually, she wanted me to bring you over. I told her it wasn’t safe, especially if you’re found and she reminded me that it isn’t safe if they find her either. We could go. I’m sure I could find you a hiding space.”

Daryl just grunted at that. He was itching to leave but it was infinitely safer to remain at the Kingdom. Then Jesus reached over, patted him on the shoulder and said, “Hey, think about it?”

Daryl looked over at him. Jesus’ smile did not waver. He pulled his hand back, straightened away from the bookshelf and said, “I think I’m going to rest for a bit. Read. That’s the other thing to do around here. I’ve got my own collection in one of the rooms here…if I can remember which one it was. We can look for it. Something to do…if we’re still doing this vigil?”

Daryl did not look away from Jesus’ gaze. The other man smiled slightly, turned and started for the door. Daryl took a breath, exhaled and followed.


End file.
